them a barbeque lunch of his specialty, sausages, fried onions and mushrooms, squashed into a big bun smothered with tomato sauce that dripped down your fingers.
Charli decided the day was exactly how she wanted it to be.
Being with the two men she loved more than anything else in the world.
• • •
That night the three of them sat on her father’s well-worn veranda, Charli sipping an ice-cold glass of ginger beer, her dad and Will drinking beer from a can, the way her father had always drunk his beer for as long as she could remember.
After her father had retired for the evening, Charli and Will went for a walk along the well-trod paths of the Murray and sat near the river’s edge throwing stones into the deep, dark water.
She was glad now that she’d taken Will to the farm. She’d wanted him to know her slice of life. Let him see how she’d been raised, and maybe he’d understand her uneasiness while around Ester Knight.
“Your father reminds me of my dad,” Will said. “Down to earth, strong and dependable.”
Surprised, she said, “What did your father do?”
“He built houses.”
“He owned a construction company.”
“No, he built houses. He loved to build.” He gave a quiet laugh. “I know what you’re thinking. How come my mother married a builder? Simple, she fell in love with him. He never changed and neither did she. My mother came from a moneyed family. Her father was a heart surgeon and her mother a renowned psychiatrist. The house in Portsea belonged to her parents.”
“That’s your family home.”
“Nope. I was born in Warrandyte.”
“But your mother seems so — ”
“She likes to play lady of the manor.” He shrugged. “So what? Besides me, that’s all she’s got.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “My mother loved my father and when he died she was heartbroken for years. Her parents were killed in a car accident and I encouraged her to take over the house in Portsea. To give her substance. To give her a reason to live.”
He threaded his arm through hers as they made their way back to her father’s house. Charli said quietly, “I didn’t know. Didn’t understand.”
They reached the veranda. He spun her around, clasping his arms around her waist. She stared up and in the moonlight his eyes sparkled. “Just be yourself, Honey. Don’t change, whatever you do. That’s all I ask.”
His lips made a soft, embracing trail across her cheek to the lobe of her ear.
She brought her hands up to push him away but she might have been pushing a mountain so ineffectual were her efforts.
“Kiss me,” he said. His hands moved to the small of her back, pressing her to him, bringing her mouth in contact with his. “Kiss me.”
His eyes devoured her. Electricity sparked. His mouth covered hers and the world tilted. His mouth demanded. She responded. She was totally his.
He released her mouth. He claimed her mouth. He allowed the tip of his tongue to caress the inside of her mouth. Passion soared. Uncontrollable and fierce. Hot and powerful.
His hand clasped her breast, pressing the fullness. Her hands wound around his neck. The kiss would never end. He made to lift his head. She gave a small moan and traced his lips with her own. All-consuming heat. A need that must be fulfilled.
Her head fell back and his mouth trailed kisses down her throat. She could feel the heat of his mouth through the thick shirt she wore as he pressed kisses onto her breasts. Her hands clasped behind his head. Her fingers entwined in the lushness of his hair. She held his mouth to her breast. Needing him. Wanting him.
“I want you,” he whispered huskily. “Here, now.”
“I want you too,” she responded eagerly.
He pulled, half carried her to a cane sofa on the far side of the veranda. The hardness of the cane pressed into her back; she heard his soft murmurings of promises of love to come and lost herself in the magic of the night, the stars, and Will.
Feeling the coolness
Charli decided the day was exactly how she wanted it to be.
Being with the two men she loved more than anything else in the world.
• • •
That night the three of them sat on her father’s well-worn veranda, Charli sipping an ice-cold glass of ginger beer, her dad and Will drinking beer from a can, the way her father had always drunk his beer for as long as she could remember.
After her father had retired for the evening, Charli and Will went for a walk along the well-trod paths of the Murray and sat near the river’s edge throwing stones into the deep, dark water.
She was glad now that she’d taken Will to the farm. She’d wanted him to know her slice of life. Let him see how she’d been raised, and maybe he’d understand her uneasiness while around Ester Knight.
“Your father reminds me of my dad,” Will said. “Down to earth, strong and dependable.”
Surprised, she said, “What did your father do?”
“He built houses.”
“He owned a construction company.”
“No, he built houses. He loved to build.” He gave a quiet laugh. “I know what you’re thinking. How come my mother married a builder? Simple, she fell in love with him. He never changed and neither did she. My mother came from a moneyed family. Her father was a heart surgeon and her mother a renowned psychiatrist. The house in Portsea belonged to her parents.”
“That’s your family home.”
“Nope. I was born in Warrandyte.”
“But your mother seems so — ”
“She likes to play lady of the manor.” He shrugged. “So what? Besides me, that’s all she’s got.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “My mother loved my father and when he died she was heartbroken for years. Her parents were killed in a car accident and I encouraged her to take over the house in Portsea. To give her substance. To give her a reason to live.”
He threaded his arm through hers as they made their way back to her father’s house. Charli said quietly, “I didn’t know. Didn’t understand.”
They reached the veranda. He spun her around, clasping his arms around her waist. She stared up and in the moonlight his eyes sparkled. “Just be yourself, Honey. Don’t change, whatever you do. That’s all I ask.”
His lips made a soft, embracing trail across her cheek to the lobe of her ear.
She brought her hands up to push him away but she might have been pushing a mountain so ineffectual were her efforts.
“Kiss me,” he said. His hands moved to the small of her back, pressing her to him, bringing her mouth in contact with his. “Kiss me.”
His eyes devoured her. Electricity sparked. His mouth covered hers and the world tilted. His mouth demanded. She responded. She was totally his.
He released her mouth. He claimed her mouth. He allowed the tip of his tongue to caress the inside of her mouth. Passion soared. Uncontrollable and fierce. Hot and powerful.
His hand clasped her breast, pressing the fullness. Her hands wound around his neck. The kiss would never end. He made to lift his head. She gave a small moan and traced his lips with her own. All-consuming heat. A need that must be fulfilled.
Her head fell back and his mouth trailed kisses down her throat. She could feel the heat of his mouth through the thick shirt she wore as he pressed kisses onto her breasts. Her hands clasped behind his head. Her fingers entwined in the lushness of his hair. She held his mouth to her breast. Needing him. Wanting him.
“I want you,” he whispered huskily. “Here, now.”
“I want you too,” she responded eagerly.
He pulled, half carried her to a cane sofa on the far side of the veranda. The hardness of the cane pressed into her back; she heard his soft murmurings of promises of love to come and lost herself in the magic of the night, the stars, and Will.
Feeling the coolness
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